


Soul On Fire

by Milkss



Category: Elsword (Video Game)
Genre: OC's but they're of little importance and used as background characters, Slavery, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 00:42:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11725959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milkss/pseuds/Milkss
Summary: "How's about we call ya 'Add'?""Add?" Edward repeats. It's an...Odd choice of naming."Yeah, cause I know yer real good at them numbers!""Add sounds real smart n' stuff too!""Yeah" Add chokes out, unable to hold the weaver in his voice "Call me Add."





	Soul On Fire

"Did ya' hear? 'Is white hair is real, _it's really real _, I saw 'em try 'n scrub it out, didn't budge."__

__"That can't be real, looks tu' me like 'e jus' put sum' chalk in it."_ _

__"I jus' told ya', it's _really_ real! I saw it! I saw 'em tryna get it out!"_ _

__"No way, so...'es one of them brainy folk, them ones from east?"_ _

__"Hmm, I 'eard 'e can read _and_ write, but I ain't seen it, so I dunno." _ _

__"No one get thrown in 'ere if ya can read 'n write, dummy. 'S how things are. 'Yer not rats if ya can do all them smart stuff, thas' why 'es 'ere with us, 'cause 'e can't do any of that, like us."_ _

__Edward peels his forehead away from his knees, side eyeing the two boys in the cell to his right, just as compacted and filthy as his own. Their rags are newer, less dog-eared and swabbed in dirt. They're not new, by any means, a transfer then maybe? Edward doesn't care, it doesn't matter, they're cattle like him, to be laboured until they die of starvation, exhaustion or disease, whichever offs them first._ _

__It's a common occurrence, to have new children mutter at his hair, his sharp coloured eyes. His dialect was made fun of, how supposedly 'smart' he sounds. Even in this pitiful, hopeless situation, these children present a hierarchy, categorising themselves into groups. Naturally, it's easy to tell that before all this, Edward had a privileged life, he doesn't know the horrors of these street children, but he's almost jealous. Most of them never knew their parents, the rest state their parents died long before they knew how to walk._ _

__He's found himself, wishing more than once, that he'd rather things have turned out like them. At least they had no memories, no thoughts gripping them to point of suffocation. His father abandoned them. His childhood home reduced to ash. His mother...The only one to coddle him, hold him close and rejoice at how well he read, played piano, invented-oh how she loved what he invented-none of them had that. And god, god wasn't he jealous of that._ _

__"I've seen 'im do them fancy letterin'-" a girl, cell opposite, chimes in. She's by no means perky about it, looking more irritated by the noise the two are causing. "Know what else 'he can do? Numbers. 'e can do them number even better than them beater mans."_ _

__'Beater mans' is a terminology Edward quickly learnt about. It refers to the men who patrol their cells every hour, thick iron poles in hands. If anyone is too noisy, be it whispering too fiercely, giggling immaturely or, the worst offence which will leave you with swollen bruises along your ankles, crying. It's annoying, they'll bark at you, not stopping the assault on your ankles until they're purple. They'll make sure, with utmost certainty, that they cast your ankles with a shackle the next day and make you pull a cart. They'll whip you the moment you stumble, but that's the only time you're allowed to cry. They'll laugh, while you whine pitifully and drag the cart in agony. It's funny. It's utterly hilarious, right?_ _

__"That ain't true, 'e an' even said a word since we've moved 'ere, but he dun' even know what ah' name is."_ _

__"'E dun talk cause they dun let 'im, stupid. 'E spoke too much ya' see, got 'im a collar, an' they light it up, made it all red and burnin', 'is neck is all marked up an' stuff. 'E outsmarted 'em with 'is words. 'E got a real beatin' for it, had ta' look away too. Screamin' an' all made me feel sick."_ _

__There's silence, after the girl explains the reason for the ugly jagged ribbon that litters the outside of his neck. It healed weeks ago, maybe months? He doesn't count the days anymore, he doesn't know how long he's been here, long enough for his wound to heal at least. The disgusting metal collar still resides around his throat, the very one that they lit up with lighters until Edward screeched his lungs to breaking point. He couldn't utter a noise for a week, and hasn't tried since then. The boys beside him gulp._ _

__"'E...Beater men did tha' to 'im?"_ _

__More silence, and then a sigh from the boy in discussion._ _

__"Yes. Along with lashings upon my back. I received water torture, had my fingernails removed, my toes broken with pliers and my back maulers have been ripped out. This was all in one sessions of disobedience. Not that I care, but unless you enjoy tasting blood in your mouth for weeks, I wouldn't defy them."_ _

__Not only are the two boys and the girl looking at him with fearful curiosity, but a quick sweep around reveals the entire corridor of celled children gaze at him. Poking their heads through the bars to gain a proper look at him._ _

__"...We're all gunna die in 'ere aren't we?"_ _

__Another girl, greasy hair, black in its natural shade or from being soiled by the coal mines, Edward isn't sure. She has fear, absolute fear in her irises. And for the very first time in a long time, these children start to recognise their situation, start to remember why they're here, that escaping isn't even an option. Some start to cry, others rattle at their bars, some screeching that they don't want their teeth taken out. It causes an uproar, so much so that the beaters have to intervene. They lash at the screeching girls and smash the heads of shivering boys against the bars until they all quiet down, be it in numbness or unconsciousness, there's silence once more. The beaters leave._ _

__"...What's yer name, east boy?"_ _

__The same girl who told his tale feebly asks, voice tired and strained._ _

__"..." Edward thinks, thinks about the trouble he'll have to bare for sharing his name, how it may trigger events that'll lead to the residential scientists gaining interest in him, for what exactly his namesake holds. Even his first name is dangerous. "I lack one...I do not own a name."_ _

__"Thas' no good-" one of the boys, one of the children who received a beating judging by his slurred speech, split lip and purpled cheek, murmurs out through the bars, another boy hums his agreement._ _

__"We'll give ya a name."_ _

__"Yeah! Yer real smart, ya' should 'ave a smart name!"_ _

__Other children within the cells chime in with agreement, all sounding genuinely...Happy. Edward uncurls from within himself, legs popping after crouching up for gods knows how long. He shuffles to the front, wrapping lithe fingers around the bars. He peers out, and for the first time since dragged here, he feels a connection, feels _something_ happening between him and these other children, just as scared, just as desperate as him. _ _

__"What would you all propose?"_ _

__They all think for a while, some giggling softly and whispering out 'Smarty!' , 'Thinker!' and 'Brainy!', but there's no ill intentions, just light hearted _fun_. _ _

__"How's about we call ya 'Add'?"_ _

__"Add?" Edward repeats. It's an...Odd choice of naming._ _

__"Yeah, cause I know yer real good at them numbers, but I dunno much 'bout em other than Addin' and Takin' away, but Add's easier tu' say an' all."_ _

__"Add sounds real smart n' stuff too!"_ _

__"Yeah, like a real east name!"_ _

__It doesn't at all, nothing like the names he was use to hearing around his home and fathers laboratory, but none of that matters. It can't matter, not when Edward's chest warms, not when he feels a warm wetness stink at his eyes. He bites his lip for a moment to compose himself._ _

__"Yeah" Add chokes out, unable to hold the weaver in his voice "Call me Add."_ _


End file.
